Gestalt Theory
by Preserved Peaches
Summary: A poorly functioning engine forces the crew of the enterprise to face what they have been avoiding: returning home. k/s
1. Chapter 1

** Gestalt Theory**

James sighed in reflexive frustration. Morning had come again and he still felt the disorienting wrongness of waking up in his room aboard the Enterprise. His eyes were still groggy from the night as they took in the alien walls surrounding him. For a brief second the room seemed to contract with a newness that made him feel vaguely claustrophobic. He shook it off knowing that the alien nature of his new home, and more pressingly, his new position as captain would wear off eventually. It just took time.

He rolled out of bed and hurried to get ready. During his first days as captain he had been uncharacteristically worried about his appearance. Now however, he had reverted back to his normal flippant behavior. He threw on his clothes and gave his messy hair a cursory glance before making his way to the cafeteria nearest his quarters.

He sighed in relief when he noticed that the cafeteria was nearly empty. Normally it was bustling with activity since meals were on a carefully organized schedule of rotations. The dining area was the one spot that could never be found without at least a dozen people. All of which would fall silent when Jim stepped in. Jim praised his own foresightedness to wake up early in the dead time of the morning that was to late too be a night shift and too early to be the day shift.

He loaded his plate up with an unhealthy (certainly not obscene….) amount of refined white bread and sugar and quickly made his way to the coffee pot.

"Captain." said a familiar voice. Jim turned to take in his first officer. Spock was standing coolly behind him. Jim waited but quickly realized after a long awkward pause that Spock was not going to forthcoming.

"Yes?" He prodded a bit impatiently. He wondered if he was noticing a flash of annoyance in Spock's eyes but it was gone as quickly as it came. He quickly reigned in his desire to obnoxious and confrontational. Spock wasn't like the rest of the crew. Their relationship, although mending, was unstable. Spock was simply being formal, possibly to an annoying degree but in a well intentioned way nonetheless.

"You're needed on the bridge." Spock recited smoothly. James had a strong urge to whine about the wasted coffee he was brewing. Somehow he though Spock would not be receptive to his plea to finish his breakfast in the relative quiet of the cafeteria. Sighing he picked up his plate of cinnamon rolls and scones.

"Don't you know breakfast is the most important meal of the day?"

This time he was sure there was a look of brief annoyance and amusement in Spock's eyes. "Quite. That it why it is often appropriate to eat food with nutritional value. I have been told eggs and orange juice is a popular human staple."

Jim's eyes snapped up in surprise. "Are you cracking a joke with me Spock?" His tone incredulous. Spocks face betrayed a slight confusion as he translated Jims thoroughly human phrase.

"Simply pointing out your odd choice of food, Captain."

"I suppose Vulcan's only eat broccoli and tofu in the morning to prepare for the day." Jim sniped as they made their way to the bridge.

"It would be a logical choice. Both are very sustaining items--" He was cut off.

"Try it." Jim turned to Spock with a sudden impossible, impulsive urge.

"I do not understand."

Jim could only laugh internally as he watched as Spock's eyes widened as he shoved a fork laden with cinnamon roll in front of Spock's eyes. "Try it. " he repeated. "You'll love it."

"I doubt that. My tastes are very different from your own. It would be highly inappropriate if I were to eat your breakfast Captain."

Jim just stood there his plate and fork outstretched imploringly. "No--"

"Just try it! You can't knock what you don't know!" Spock's eyes showed confusion yet again at the odd human phrase.

Jim saw a brief wavering in the refusal in Spock's eyes and waited patiently. "Well if you insist, perhaps." Jim smiled resting the cinnamon roll in Spock's surprised hands.

"I'll see you on the bridge." He did not think he would be able to keep a straight face if he waited to see Spock eat his breakfast. The improbable thought of Captain Kirk feeding his first officer was too humorous to contemplate. Instead he turned and walked to the door to the bridge and stepped in as it slid seamlessly upward. Because of this he missed the inscrutable expression forming on his first officer's face as he watched him go.

Stepping onto the bridge he glanced over the heads of his crew feeling an odd mix of joy and fear at the sight of their faces. He would never admit to it, but the idea of taking care of these people, his coworkers and sometimes his friends, daunted him. It infused him with a sense of overwhelming responsibility. When on earth he had never taken care of someone other than himself and had often done all in power to do exactly the opposite. He was a creator of chaos and discontent. Not the pillar of support that a captain was supposed to be.

"What's up Sulu, Chekov?" His eyes swept over to is communications officer. "Uhura?"

Instead it was Scotty's voice that gave him an answer. "Captain, we are experiencing some unaccounted for complications with the engine." Jim's stomach sank with something akin to fear. His face remained placid. "How serious is it?"

"Hard to tell actually. The issue isn't obvious just…odd. There are some abnormalities with the readings. If I could describe it…" Scotty trailed off searching for the right words. "… I would say it's hiccupping."

"A strange explanation. Certainly worth getting examined." For the second time today Jim turned at the sound of his first officer's voice behind him. Turning back to where Scotty's face was being pulled on the screen Jim spoke. "Would you suggest landing?"

"…" Scotty looked at something on a screen in front of him and slowly nodded. "Yeah. I'd say that would be the safest route. I mean it is the engine. I could try taking it apart as we're flying…" He voice held a bit of reckless excitement at the prospect. Jim winced at the thought. Images of the ship exploding in a glorious ball of fire and falling like a meteor through deep space flashed before his eyes. Certainly not the spectacular end he was hoping for.

"That would not be advisable." Spock stated with finality.

"Where's the nearest landing spot, Sulu?" James asked.

"Earth."

Jim's heart lept uncomfortably into his throat. He had been to Earth for the awards ceremony but that had only been a day of formality. Now would be his first extended visit outside the confines of the Starfleet academy. He knew the Enterprise would have to return at some point. He'd just hoped it wouldn't be so soon.

** Authors Note**

This is intended to be continued. However I don't just want to churn chapters out at random. Hopefully it won't turn into complete crap because sometimes I leap into things without planning. This will eventually be K/S but don't be too impatient about it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Three hours had passed since the Enterprise had landed and the crew was all but done with debriefing. Most of the Enterprise's officers had finally made their way to their respective homes. All but one notable exception: the ship's vastly irritated young captain.

James T. Kirk was dieing a slow, painful death by paperwork. An engine malfunction was apparently a huge deal to Starfleet's higher ups--something Jim vowed would change immediately if he ever got promoted. In addition to forms he needed to sign for the engine mishap there was a large amount of work that Jim had shrugged off earlier that he now had to catch up with. The final equation was a pissed off captain and a massive headache.

Said captain was currently seated in Starfleet's library struggling through a stack of white sheets that seemed to be never ending. He could ask for a temporary room in Starfleet lodging to finish the work. However, a combination of laziness and a long held fear of being tied down kept him from making the request.

As the hours slipped by he realized that he would soon be done with work-- and be left with nowhere to sleep for the night. The shuffling of students and professors working in the library slowly stilled as more and more people returned to their dorms and homes. In an earlier time Jim would have been grateful to be among them. Starfleet was a family, although a large and slightly intimidating one. However, Jim feared that returning to his old rooms would be sentencing himself to living the rest of his life on a detached, professional level. He was James Kirk for christ's sake! He had a reputation to uphold. The thought of ending up like the bureaucratic assholes that had given him his paperwork made him wince.

No. That would not be his fate.

He glanced sleepily at the large digital clock on the wall. It was 12:30, and ungodly hour by some standards and an unusual time to reserve a hotel room.

He briefly considered calling his mom, announcing he was home to see her and regaling her with stories of his daring dos. However, the time of night stopped him. His mom might not even be awake for all he knew. It seemed incredibly rude to call her for the first time in months only to pester her for a place to stay. Jim wondered with a pang of regret if she was still living in the same old house or if one of her friends had let her move into their place. He hoped that was the case. The last memories of her house were of a sad, run-down thing.

The sight of the last student sleepily packing up their books snapped Jim back to the present. He needed to solve this problem before he began to look like some creepy loiterer type.

Suddenly a flash of inspiration struck him. Quickly he fished through his civilian coat for a small, battered cell phone. It had been an antique even when he was a teenager and he had never found the desire or need to replace it. All it was useful for anymore was storing contact information. Including his brother's number which boldly popped up onto the small screen after a few seconds of searching. Jim stared at it for a long time, memories of an older life threatening to overwhelm him.

He quickly swallowed a small surge of unease and dialed the number. As he did so he glanced around hoping the ever-watchful eye of the librarian was otherwise occupied. He turned in his seat in an attempt to shield the conversation from her.

The phone rang several times. Each time a small jolt of excitement and anxiety coursed through him. Finally his brother's smooth tenor greeted his ears. The answering machines voice was short concise, rude and arrogant--everything he remembered about his older brother.

"Obviously I'm not here. You should leave your name and number after the beep. I might get back to you…if I have the time."

His voice tightened painfully and he coughed once to clear it before starting. "Hi Sam. It's me, Jim. Just got back to Earth and it would be great if I could crash at your place for a night or two. I promise I wont wreck anything intentionally while I'm there. I guess your not there right now so I might just come over and surprise you. Peace out."

He smiled slightly and closed the phone. Yes he would have to surprise his brother unless he was planning on living in a homeless shelter for the night.

He quickly made his way over to the librarian to ask for directions to what his phone told him was Sam's address. He would have to work under the assumption that his brother hadn't moved in the four years since Jim had seen him. Hopefully Sam's tendency to avoid change had stuck with him through the years Jim had been gone. The librarian kindly obliged and gave him a neatly highlighted map with instructions to the closest shuttle.

Holding a carefully marked map in one hand and a cell phone in the other Captain James T. Kirk made an inconspicuous escape to the nearest shuttle out of the city. He was returning to his home much the same way he had left it. Firstly he was leaving like a stowaway in the early morning. Secondly he had not much else but the clothes on his back since he kept his space clothes in, well, space. He wasn't a huge fan of the Starfleet uniform. It tended to make even the best-looking officer look like a bit of a prick. A prick in muted, slimming clothes but a prick nonetheless.

He spent most of his time on the long shuttle ride entertaining himself with the idea of his crew in civilian clothing. Spock in particular made a funny picture in his mind as he tried to picture the uptight Vulcan in formal clothing. A tux seemed distinctly out of place on the man. However, he couldn't completely drown out the worried thoughts that nagged at the back of his mind. Most prominent was the issue of whether Sam would be as keen to see Jim, as Jim was to see him. There was also the issue of his own reluctance to be around Starfleet. Whether it was his own reluctance to being tied down or the fear of his newfound fame, or something else…well Jim wasn't quite ready to face it.

The shuttle slowing brought him quickly back to reality. The shuttle bay was clearly and old outdate one and probably the only one for miles. Luckily it was close to where he believed his brother's house was which was basically on outskirts of a town neighboring Riverside. This meant that his brother basically lived on a secluded farm in the middle of nowhere. Jim liked to think the place was charming despite its run-down, shady appearance.

He slung his jacket over his shoulder and hopped out of the bus nodding in thanks to the driver.

"You sure this is your stop kid? There wont be any shuttles after this one." Warned the elderly man. One eyebrow was raised in apparent skepticism. Clearly not that many people traveled to deserted towns in the middle of the night these days.

"Yup. Thanks for the ride old man." James replied easily despite the worry in the pit of his stomach.

The shuttle sputtered and moved off leaving Jim alone on the side of a dusty road. He turned and rapidly made his way up the long winding road he knew would end in the dilapidated white house his brother owned. His anxiety grew the closer he came to the house and he tried in vain to reign his unreasonable fear in. He still didn't know what his brother's reaction would be, but there was no reason to expect the worse.

Finally he made his way to the small porch. Hesitation clung to him for a second and he struggled to control a sudden urge to run very far in the opposite direction. Why did his own brother make him so apprehensive?

He raised his hand and gave the door a firm rap.

Barking coming from indoors began. A volley of footsteps grew louder and suddenly the door was unlatched and Jim was staring into the face of an angry older brother.

"What in the hell?" exclaimed Sam as he attempted to restrain the large barking doberman that was currently glaring daggers up at Jim.

Jim could only let out a startled "hi."

His brother's eyes widened.

"James Kirk. Who knew I'd ever see your scrawny ass back in this town."

Kirk nodded before he realized that his brother's comment might merit a response. "I've…uh, just got back from work. I needed a place to stay. And I wanted to see you." He added hastily hoping he hadn't come off totally rude.

"I get it. You can't find a place to stay after becoming some big shot captain. So you hit your brother up expecting family connections are something you can rely on." His brother's words seemed harsh but his eyes seemed to be laughing. Or at least Jim hoped so.

"You got me." Jim said holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

"I always have."

Jim stared at his brother and smiled in happy surprise. This wasn't so bad.

"So, ah, I can stay?" He ventured.

"Yeah, yeah we got some room. Couldn't have hurt to call ahead could it? And how did you find your way here anyway?" His brother's questions overwhelmed Jim and maybe the other man noticed that because he ushered Jim in and quickly led him to the guest room.

"You can sleep here for the time being. If you had called ahead I could have set something better up." The man continued to grumble as Jim sat gratefully down on the bed.

"That doesn't mean you can just come waltzing on back expecting room service. Get some sleep. Then you're going to work. Margie needs some help with the weeding anyways."

Margie? Jim wondered who this new development could be. A girlfriend perhaps? Or maybe an old flame. Sam had trouble ending old relationships.

Seeing Jim's look of confusion Sam thankfully continued. "My wife'll have her work cut out feeding you tomorrow. I've forgotten how much of a pig you are."

If he noticed how Jim's eyebrows shot up he ignored it. They tacitly seemed to agree to not mention how little they still knew each other.

Eventually Sam left, still muttering about rude guests and his dislike of surprises. Jim smiled slightly as he collapsed in exhaustion on top of his sheets. The sense of foreboding he had experienced earlier erased from his tired mind. Loneliness and isolation, emotions he often felt with regards to his family were pushed to the back of his head. He'd deal with them tomorrow.

Little did he know that miles away his Vulcan first officer was ironically having less success pushing similar feelings aside.

**Authors Note**

I apologize for the boring chapter. It has absolutely no Kirk/Spock interaction, which is really the most fun part in my opinion. They will eventually be together (As in "interacting" with each other, not as in a couple) in 2 to 3 chapters so no worries. I'll try to keep updating so we get there soon!

Oh yes. I took total liberties with Sam. I know he has a personality from the original series but I'm not familiar with any Star Trek stuff besides the new movie so I used my imagination. Hopefully that's acceptable considering the movie is in an alternate time period.

I changed the format due to some requests, hopefully it's easier to read! Thanks for the reviewing!!


	3. Interlude

**Interlude: Perceptual Organization**

Spock was Vulcan. This was a fact that he had once been proud of. He was still proud, would always be proud….but…. his pride now handicapped him. It haunted him throughout his day. Activities he had once taken for granted were now colored by the sour aftertaste of grief.

Grief. Grief was not truly an adequate word for all that he felt, still felt. He did feel. Felt more strongly than he liked to admit even to himself. He knew this was illogical yet he also illogically did not want to stop the grief.

He deserved his grief because he had failed.

So logically (and yes, he was now reclaiming logic) he needed to somehow redeem himself. Some sacrifice needed to be made. Some of his guilt needed to be eased. Spock couldn't change the past (although ironically his future self had done just that) and he couldn't bring her back.

There was nothing left to do but rebuild what was left of the Vulcan people.

But there again he paused because his future self had told him to do what felt right.

But nothing felt right anymore.

And there was the rub.

So he had returned to Starfleet thinking he would stay in his old rooms at Starfleet. But they were no longer available for him, as they were now housing a new occupant.

Instead of requesting new ones like he should have Spock had bought an apartment. Instead of living with Nyota like she had generously offered he spent his last pay check furnishing the place. Instead of acting based on logic like was expected he did something thoroughly out of character.

He acted impulsively.

Now he was living thoroughly in character: alone. However contrary to popular belief living alone was not helping Spock. Instead he felt like he was drifting through the days buoyed merely on the small issues of renting his own place. This was not enough. He missed the casual camaraderie aboard the Enterprise. He missed being so engaged he could not focus on anything but the task at hand. Suprisingly he even missed the odd, unstable friendship he had slowly been developing with his brash captain.

Now Spock had so much _time. _This was something he had at one point desperately wanted but now that he had it he had no idea what to do with it. His meditation wasn't working. Nothing was working. He would continue to test new methods, but his efforts were clearly lackluster. Instead he sat in his new bed for hours holding a staring contest with his wall.

To any normal person this might be considered depression. To Spock it was merely disorganization of thought.

**Authors Note**

So I will be having brief interludes into Spock's thoughts throughout the story. These are based less on plot and more on personal insight since the rest of the story will be largely from Kirk's point of view.

Thanks for reviewing!!


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